“What does it matter to the little girl whether
or not you come home for her birthday?” he thought.
“She’s just as well off without you.
But Boerje has seven kiddies at home, and no food for
them. Shall you let them starve so that you can
go home and play with Glory Goldie?”

Then he wheeled round, walked back to Boerje, and
got down into the ditch to help him. Jan was
rather tired after his day’s toil and could
not work very fast. It was almost dark when they
got through.

“Glory Goldie must be asleep this long while,”
thought Jan, when he finally put in the spade for
the last bit of earth.

“Go’-night for to-day,” he called
back to Boerje for the second time.

“Go’-night,” returned Boerje, “and
thanks to you for the help. Now I must hurry
along and get my rye. Another time I’ll
give you a lift, be sure of that!”

“I don’t want any pay ... Go’-night!”

“Don’t you want anything for helping me?”
asked Boerje. “What’s come over you,
that you’re so stuck-up all at once?”

“Well, you see, it’s—­it’s
the lassie’s birthday to-day.”

“And for that I got help with my digging?”

“Yes, for that and for something else, too!
Well—­good bye to you!”

Jan hurried away so as not to be tempted to explain
what that something else was. It had been
on the tip of his tongue to say: “To-day
is not only Glory Goldie’s birthday, but it’s
also the birthday of my heart.”

It was as well, perhaps, that he did not say it, for
Boerje would surely have thought Jan had gone out
of his mind.

CHRISTMAS MORN

Christmas morning Jan took the little girl along with
him to church; she was then just one year and four
months old.

Katrina thought the girl rather young to attend church
and feared she would set up a howl, as she had dime
at the vaccination bee; but inasmuch as it was the
custom to take the little ones along to Christmas
Matins, Jan had his own way.

So at five o’clock on Christmas Morn they all
set out. It was pitch dark and cloudy, but not
cold; in fact the air was almost balmy, and quite
still, as it usually is toward the end of December.

Before coming to an open highway, they had to walk
along a narrow winding path, through fields and groves
in the Ashdales, then take the steep winter-road across
Snipa Ridge.

The big farmhouse at Falla, with lighted candles at
every window, stood out as a beacon to the Ruffluck
folk, so that they were able to find their way to
Boerje’s hut; there they met some of their neighbours,
bearing torches they had prepared on Christmas Eve.
Each torch-bearer led a small group of people most
of whom followed in silence; but all were happy; they
felt that they, too, like the Wise Men of old, were
following a star, in quest of the new-born King.